


Heartbeats

by alianovna_grant



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Elektra feels, F/M, Ficlet, MCU compliant, Unbeta'd, hurting, implied sex, mattxelekta, self-made song prompt, slightly canon divergent, will add tags later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 11:39:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7220857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alianovna_grant/pseuds/alianovna_grant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Maybe this was inevitable despite his evident distrust and her blatant vagueness."</p><p>***<br/>An exploration into Elektra's thoughts if things went a different way after the mission to retrieve the ledger at the Roxxon party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heartbeats

**Author's Note:**

> I recently binge watched Marvel's Daredevil and woah, what a show! I really loved everything about it, the cast, the writing and all the characters are very well written. I also love all of Matt's love interests because they are all smart, beautiful, independent women who are complex and interesting but I ended up liking Elektra a little more because there's just something about her character that resonated with me (I seem to have a deep connection with assassin types with dark pasts lol) anyways, this fic was mostly inspired by me trying to dig into Elektra's thoughts and motivations as well as Jose Gonzales' version of the song Heartbeats. I mean that whole song is basically a backdrop to this ficlet tbh.
> 
> This is completely unbeta'd and only slightly proofread (mistakes abound!)
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy, comments and suggestions are highly appreciated.

_“And you, you knew the hands of the devil_

_And you, kept us awake with wolf teeth_

_Sharing different heartbeats_

_In one night.”_

Heartbeats – Jose Gonzales

(The Knife cover)

 

She could hear the whoosh of air going in and out of his lungs, deep and calm, unlike his shallow pants and uneven breaths from ten minutes ago. He was fast asleep, eyes slid shut and mouth slightly parted. He was exhausted, knocked out cold from the adrenaline rush of the last few hours. She could hear his heartbeat, a strong steady rhythm beating against his chest and she lets the sound echo inside her head, the soft thudding bringing back a flood of distant memories she’s tried hard to forget. She still couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that she was this close to him again--she could feel the slip of his sweat on her skin, the heat from his body and the coarseness of the hair on his legs tickling her calves. He had an arm around her, clasping so tight she was having a bit of trouble breathing but she didn’t mind. She didn’t mind the closeness, it reminded her being nineteen, of dorm rooms and cramped futons.

Her head was cushioned on his broad chest, her arm draped over his abdomen. She had an ear pressed right above his heart and she could hear it even more clearly from this position. She could hear it’s robust lub dub contending with the city’s racket like a declamation of his unwavering tenacity. It was a wonderful sound, like everything about him, strong and unfaltering.

She took comfort in that, the calmness of his heart beating as she recalls the frenzy of their bodies colliding and intertwining only a few moments ago when she had her hands clutching at his wrists with him above her hurtling towards release and rapture. Hurtling towards _bliss_. She felt it, his pulse a frantic beat that rivaled her own. It was madness, and chaos and pleasure. The by-product of a night that could have ended horribly but didn’t.

Maybe this was inevitable despite his evident distrust and her blatant vagueness. Maybe this was ten years in the making, this clash of words and skin and teeth. This _reckoning_. Maybe it was the residual adrenaline from the mission, the fight or flight instinct still lingering in their blood that led to this moment with the urge to fight blurring with the need to fuck. Maybe it was the harried kisses they exchanged to avoid exposure that lit everything that was simmering between them since the moment she arrived back in his life. Maybe it was the pent up anger, the hate, all of his resentment towards her bubbling to the surface that made him lose himself to the fire and darkness she always seemed to be the most capable of bringing out. _Maybe_. Maybe it was just that, him getting back at her for being the bitch that broke his heart.

But that didn’t seem right. Somewhere between the both of them inflexibly taking and taking without letting up or giving in, somewhere between the both of them being too stubborn to give the other the satisfaction of coming undone in the other person’s arms,  there was a moment of surrender. She didn’t know who, if it was her or if it was him, who gave up and gave in. It didn’t matter. It was in the pauses between him softly gasping her name and her shuddering breaths that she knew it wasn’t about hate, or lies, or need anymore. It was just them, and the moment, and all the things they could have had.

She smiles at the feel of his silk sheets, cool and smooth, draped over their bodies. She remembers the Matthew that she knew from long ago and his thread bare cotton sheets she thought were more than enough to keep her warm as long as she had him by her side.  The last time she was near him like this, this _close_ , back when she was young and stupid enough to think that there was a life outside of what she was trained for, _reared_ for. It seems like a lifetime ago, when her youth afforded her the chance to make mistakes and not give a damn and she wonders, if this was a mistake they’d regret come morning.

So she studies him closely, knowing this probably will be the last time she will be able to do so, to read him again like a favorite book she thought she’d lost. The words are still there, but some are jumbled up and she has no way of knowing if it all still means the same. She takes all of the details in his face and in his body; even though the dim illumination from the city filtering through his windows was barely enough light to see anything clearly, her eyes were clear and sharp. She tried to sear the details to memory. She traces his skin, so familiar yet so new. There were bumps and ridges smattered across his skin that weren’t there before. Scars that now marred him and reminded her of her own, reminders of battles fought and won. It reminded her too, of how similar they were, but so very and different at the same time.

She wants to stay, but she knows she couldn’t allow herself to wreak havoc in his life again because she is chaos, and destruction, and _darkness_ while he is a light and goodness in this punishing world. She never understood that, his need to be righteous and good, but despite that she respected it, she respected him and she wouldn’t let herself taint him again just like what happened before. She knows it, she knows how the fire inside her can never be tamed but as much as she wants to stoke the fire raring within him as well, a fire wanting to be let out, she knows it wouldn’t be right because he was a beacon that _protected_ , and she was a fire that _destroyed_.

So she thinks of gathering up her things and the red number she wore tonight and just flee.  Escape, like she always does because that was easier than to face him tomorrow and explain because she’s always been so bad at telling him what she really wanted to say, at showing him what she genuinely felt.  It was easier than to hear him say the things that might hurt her, things that _will_ hurt her. But something inside her refused to let go of this moment. Maybe she could spin it, infuse the morning after with enough flippancy to make him believe that this was nothing, she was really good at that, in making him believe that she was incapable of anything tender or true. Make him believe that nothing had changed because she was still her and he was still him. Convince him of how much she didn’t crave this moment with him, convince him that she doesn’t constantly bite her tongue to keep from saying senseless things, like longing and regret. To affirm the fact that she was as vile as the day she left him because he _deserved_ better, he _deserved_ someone who would _stay_. He _deserved_ someone who wouldn’t make him _bleed_.  

But she settles herself against him, inside his arms and his warmth. Maybe she could take this one night for herself and bask in things that could be. If things were simple. If things were different. If they were different people. If she were truthful and good. Not _this_ , not what she was. She didn’t even know _what_ she was. If she hadn’t hurt him so bad. Maybe she could pretend for a while, remember what it was like to be young and in love with a man who loved her too. To care for nothing, not even about wars that needed to be fought.

She listens to his heartbeat again, a lullaby she’s missed and secretly yearned for. Just this once, just for tonight, she lets it put her to sleep again, like she was nineteen and nothing else mattered but his hand on her waist and the smell of his skin.

 


End file.
